


Cold Comfort

by confusedkayt



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-05
Updated: 2011-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-25 17:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusedkayt/pseuds/confusedkayt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>usakeh asked for "an X-Men: First Class Erik/Charles drabble, in which Charles is ill and Erik cares for him. Bonus points if Raven is involved somehow (not in the pairing, but just, you know, there as Charles' sister)." I should probably warn that this is sweet as cotton candy, in an Erik-is-awkward sort of way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Comfort

He’s very good at pretending Raven isn’t looking at him. Hank’s a puppy, nervous and fragile in a way that’s just shy of infuriating, but it’ll do her good to look like that at someone who’s looking back.

Still, this has been going on for an awfully long time. Erik sighs and lowers his paper. “What is it?”

“The boys and I are going to town,” she says. It comes out as a question. “We’re running low on supplies…”

“There are plenty of tins in the cupboard.”

A frustrated sigh. “We can’t live out of cans.” Erik raises an eyebrow and her shoulders rise defensively. “Fine. Charles is sick and it’s better for him if we all get out of the house.”

“Except, of course, for me,” he says dryly. He’s sure to be a very poor nursemaid.

“Someone’s got to stay with him. I thought about it, but…” She shrugs, helpless and sharp. There are any number of possible endings for that sentence. But we wanted a day off of training. But there’s strain, there, between brother and sister that even Erik can see. But it’s not much of a day out with Erik around to put a damper on the mayhem. But Raven’s a smart girl and has figured out that Charles very much enjoys Erik’s company.

“All right,” he agrees, surprising himself as much as her. A brief hug – that still startles him, how _tactile_ they all can be - and there’s a great deal of shuffling just outside the kitchen door. Someone – Sean – can be heard to holler “Road trip!”

She laughs, a bit of sadness in it, and Erik chuckles a bit as well. “It’s just a cold, but it’s hard on him,” she says, waggling her fingers near her head. “He always holes up in the top-floor study. Just… make sure he eats something and doesn’t drown in his own snot.”

“Lovely,” he snorts, and she smirks – there’s the hint of mischief he was waiting for – and quits the kitchen.

The whole thing buys him a quiet morning. They all stay out of his way, lest he change his mind, he supposes, and it’s not too long before the rattling around ceases entirely and he can finish his reading in peace. After a while, he supposes he’d better go check on Charles. Dry toast, maybe, and an orange – that seems like the sort of thing for a cold. Or is that the flu? Well. It’s edible, anyway.

He picks his way to the top floor – this place really is a mausoleum – and is amused to find Charles, or what he presumes to be Charles, entirely obscured by what can only be described as a nest. There’s a bit of rustling and a very red nose surfaces on the far end of the sofa. “Hullo, Erik.”

He sounds cheery every now. Of course he does. “I’ve brought you breakfast.”

“Right. Thank you.” There’s a good deal more rustling as Charles completes the apparently burdensome task of getting himself upright. Erik hands him the plate he’s prepared without comment.

There’s a silence in which Charles gamely chews on toast. It couldn’t be clearer that he’s not enjoying it. “You don’t have to finish it…”

“I certainly do, after you’ve taken the trouble to bring it to me.” There’s strain around the edges of that smile. Erik sighs and snags a piece of the toast for himself. Of course Charles would be polite even when he’s miserably sick.

“Oh not _miserably_ …”

He can’t help the way his eyes narrow. Charles drags a wrist over his eyes. “I am sorry, my friend. It’s a bit hard for me to stay out when I’m under the weather.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. Charles flinches - it’s a little short, but Erik was surprised. “I should have guessed.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles repeats, sounding miserable.

“It’s really all right.” Erik shifts uncomfortably. “I should have guessed, with the way you’re hiding out up here.” He looks a little less miserable. “Am I hurting you? I should go.”

“You’re not hurting me,” Charles says, very quickly. He breaks eye contact, staring off the end of the sofa. “In fact, you’re a comfort.”

“All right,” Erik says, uneasily.

“In fact…” and Charles is still staring off the end of the sofa. “I can keep mostly to myself. If you were, say, reading, I would hear the book but nothing much more than that.”

Erik blinks. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. “All right.”

“I mean, that is, if you wouldn’t mind…”

He can’t bear how miserably sorry Charles sounds, reaches out on reflex to smooth the hair on his sweaty forehead. “I said, all right,” he says, and Charles beams at him, begins the process of snuggling down into his nest of blankets. “I don’t suppose you have a decent translation of the Odyssey.”

“Second shelf from the bottom, fourth book on the left.” It shouldn’t be endearing, the way the blankets have muffled Charles’ stuffy voice.

He pulls one of the leather monstrosities that pass for chairs up here over next to the sofa by its surfeit of brass tacks without thinking too much about it, finds the book – impressive, Charles’ memory – and settles in to read. It’s not precisely restful, punctuated with Charles’ occasional laughs or spates of coughing – he is the noisiest creature at the best of times. Eventually Charles settles into a wheezy sort of sleep. Erik reaches out to stroke his hair, a little amazed at his foolishness – Charles is not awake to be comforted, after all – but the corners of his mouth turn up in sleep. The pleasures and perils of telepathy, Erik supposes, and turns back to Homer, just in case.


End file.
